Doesn't sound fun, does it? Unless there is a great deal of foam or a bounce house involved anyway. After a few years in my self defense class, it doesn't bother me much anymore. And our floors are hard. The carpet and the concrete underneath have, through blood, sweat, tears and the occasional flooding, bonded into something much harder than a slab of granite. It should be one of those places to see on a walking city tour. Oh, look distracted again.
Today I got to be the punch-in dummy for Sensei. He was showing myself and another girl the most effective ways to sweep our opponents. I am always amazed at the difference between a student throwing me around and an instructor. The girl I was training with is really good, and Sensei is awesome (although don't tell him I told you so, it'll go to his head). Being handled by experts is always very cool. One second I'm standing up, punching, and the next I'm on the ground. Wow! That was cool! How did you do it?
Entertainment is like that too. I can read a mediocre book, I can even watch a crappy movie, and still enjoy it. However, I get much more excited about a story in which I know I will be taken on the journey by a master. Someone who really knows how to lead me along, hit me with their best shots, and (in the end) allow me to revel in my survival of the trip, basking in the character's triumphs. Someday, I wanna do that—be that author. Someday . . .